Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent
Beatrice Prior, 10th October, Saturday, 2:13 pm, Christina Will's apartment.
"So how does it feel to not have to weekends" Christina queries, in regard to me recently resigning from my position in the cafe, as we start our jobs as detectives on Monday.
I stay silent for a moment before responding, "Different."
She nods her head and walks out of her bedroom and into the living room. I've always adored Will and Chris' apartment. The brown wooden planks that make up the floor complement the cream coloured walls well.
I always felt that this apartment had the best bits from both Will and Christina, from Will's assortment of books that are jammed into any area they fit. To Christina's more feminine touch portrayed by the variety of pillows that occupy the space on the sofa as well as the small trinkets that decorate the surfaces.
Will and Al are sitting on the cream sofa discussing something when Chris and I make our entrance. We take a seat on the other sofa that is placed next to the one Al and Will are sitting, but it's placed in the opposite direction, both of them forming some sort of detached L sofa position.
"Me and Tris," Chris announces, "Are having a girls night."
"Tris and I," Will corrects.
"You're not coming, you're a guy," Chris deadpans, causing Will to furrow his brows and huff, "It's funny messing with your nerd skills, Will" she adds.
Beatrice prior, the same day, 5:47 p.m. Italian restaurant.
"Tris, for the love of God, don't worry, I told you I was paying," Christina asserts.
I inwardly sigh, although the restaurant's prices are affordable, it doesn't mean I want to spend my money or Christina's money for this case on some pasta that I'll eat once.
"Tris, I can see the wheels turning in your brain, just order something," She whines.
Giving in I finally place my order for their Alfredo pasta and water as a drink. Christina smiles, not directly at me but I know it's because of what I did. If I were to describe Christina with one word it would be honest.
Christina can be brutally honest even when you wish she wasn't, and when she told me I was 'extremely stubborn' I believed her, because I am. For the past four years, I have never let her pay for a single one of my meals, even during the time periods where I had to forgo eating a few meals to pay rent or save up for a birthday present for one of my friends.
Only a few minutes later, our food arrives. We both dig in immediately, no conversation required as we both are occupied with our food. The creamy pasta melts in my mouth immediately, as I try and savour the delicious flavour.
After we both have eaten, Chris pays the bill and we exit the restaurant and walk down the street, making our way to her car. This night is particularly cold, resulting in seeing your own breath in the form of a white puff.
Chris unlocks her car as we both open the door and slide into the seats, Christina immediately turns on the car on and puts the heat up trying to get our body temperatures back to what feels like positive numbers.
The car ride is short, but not a second is wasted. Both the heat and radio volume has been cranked up to as high as they can go, and for a short amount of time, I'm not the Tris who worries about the bills, or if I can afford my next meal. I'm another form of me. Tris the girl who knows tomorrow will be good, the girl who can let go and have a good night with her best friend.
When we finally reach the apartments car park, both Chris and I both exit the car, with sore throats from screaming the lyrics and a sheen of sweat over us. We make our way up to her apartment and unlock the door, collapsing one after the other onto the sofas.
"Where's nerd boy?" I question, using the nickname both Christina and I had created for her lover when I first realised his entire diet consists of textbooks.
" Al and Him are having a 'boys night' at Al's place, I don't think he wants to join our girls night, not after what happened last time," She remarks. I laugh at the memory of Will getting roped into one of our girls nights.
His horrified expression is burnt into my memory from when we told him the only way he'd get the brownies we baked earlier was if he got his nails painted. It was truly priceless when he walked into training the next day and had to show off both his finger and toenails.
"Brownies?" She hints, probably remembering our girls night with Will.
I nod in response. No words are said as I go to her pantry and take out the ingredients we need and she hooks her phone to her speaker, playing our playlist.
I don't know what I deserved to meet Christina, she always understands me, it's like we communicated with our eyes, there's never a dull moment when we're together. She's my partner in crime, quite literally, seeing as we persuaded Amar to put us in the same Patrolling group from when Detectives need to perform police duties once a month.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" Chris inquired
"Just thinking about how much I love you," I say in a teasing manner but there's not a single lie behind my statement.
"Aww, love you too sassy pants" She coos in an equally teasing voice.
I roll my eyes and grab the bag of flour pinching some of the white powder and throwing it in her face, before quickly turning back and begin making the brownies. Christina huffs but doesn't take our argument further yet.
The keyword being yet.
We finish making the brownie mix at record speed and place the chocolaty mixture into the dish and place it into the oven, setting a timer for half an hour as we both plop down on the sofa.
"I'm going to shower, you can go after me," Christina states and then sprints off to her bathroom, leaving me with no room to argue.
I look over the apartment, but my eyes stop on one of the pictures hanging from the wall, it's one of Christiana and me, I remember that day as if it occurred only yesterday. It was the weekend after we completed our midyear exams. The four of us, being Chris, Will, Al and me all decided that we deserved a break and took a camping trip. Marshmallows were burnt and songs were sung, but most importantly memories were made.
"Your turn" Christina announces, breaking me from my trance, "You can use the blue shampoo bottle"
I gather my sweatpants and my hoodie that's only slightly too big for me and head to the bathroom. Once the temperature is right I step inside, letting the hot water enclose me and work its way into the dull aches in my backs and the small multicoloured bruises from our final fights this week; mine being with Peter, which I won.
I grab the blue shampoo bottle and squirt some of the contents onto my hair lathering it in my hair. I pause swiping a hand over my hair and glance at it to find a red substance on it. Tomato ketchup. I groan and wash it out of my hair before applying some of Christina's actual shampoo.
I get out of the shower pleased to realise that my hair doesn't smell like ketchup. I dry myself off and then slip into my nightclothes that I had bought with me and walk out of the bathroom, towards Christina.
"How was your shower," She asks slyly, a grin beginning to form on her face, as she looks pleased with what she had pulled off.
"Very funny Chris," I say blandly, not acknowledging her prank, trying to keep the smile off my own face.
The timer goes off and we both go to tend to the baked goods. The brownie looks soft and is begging for me to eat it. Chris and I share a smile as she goes to scoop the ice cream as I cut up the brownie and place it in the bowls. After plating up, we take our bowls and walk towards Chris' room.
Christina's bedroom has the perfect amount of both modernness and comfiness, a combination I thought didn't exist until I had walked into Chris' room. I still remember the day I met her at university, she looked as if she had just walked out of a magazine, and seeing her house didn't leave much room for her denial.
She has a queen-sized bed that is covered with more pillows and comforters that you know what to do with, but not enough to make her bed look or feel cluttered. Opposite her bed, she has a vanity, with a white seat and a fluffy white mat to go underneath it, with a variety of makeup items that only she could know how to use.
We both sit down and begin eating in silence, but I know the silence will only last so long. Christina isn't usually one to be quiet and considering she was quiet when we had dinner, it's highly unlikely she'll be quiet again.
"Are you nervous?' She asks, slightly hesitantly.
"About what?" I counter, instead of telling her yes. It's true, I don't know what context she was asking if I was nervous in, but I always am nervous, even if it isn't much.
"About work, you know, we're going to be assigned partners based on our skills and personalities. Let's face it, Tris," She sighs, "You ranked high, really high, probably higher than me, Will or Al, that means it's highly unlikely that you'll be paired with either of us."
I take a second to let this sink in. Christina was right, I did rank really high, not that I'd ever admit it out loud. I think Peter could have ranked behind me, but we have opposite personalities meaning we wouldn't be paired together. The thought of not being paired with one of my friends isn't something I had really thought of.
"I guess," I mumble, "I might just be paired with one of the senior detectives." The senior detectives are the people who have been here for two years or longer. Amar made it clear that not all of us would be paired with this initiations junior detectives.
"Maybe you will, I can picture it now Tris. You'll meet him and fall in love" I scoff, as she continues."You will. You know, you'll have that feeling when you meet the one, you're heart will skip a beat," She says as if she is deep in thought, probably recalling when she met Will.
"Yeah, that's called arrhythmia, you can die from that," I deadpan.
"Oh, come on Tris, I've met puddles deeper than you." She resorts
"And I thought you said I was the sassy one," I mumble.
"Oh no you didn't," She joked as my face met with a pillow she had thrown in my face, causing another one of our pillow fights.
Beatrice Prior, 11th October, Sunday, 10:22 pm. The apartment.
I grab my blue jeans and a white blouse along with my black zip-up hoodie setting them aside for tomorrow. Although there isn't a specific dress code at the CPD besides from when you're doing your monthly duties as police or police in public.
I place the items of clothing on the wooden desk and grabbing the loosely threaded towel that was only kept together by a few stitches and head towards the bathroom to take a shower. It's quite a regular thing for me to take a shower at this time; not many people are up using the water, meaning they'll be more hot water.
The bathroom looks as if it were put together by a five-year-old and then remodelled by a seven-year-old. The tiles are mismatched with no apparent pattern and the walls have been painted bright yellow. The sink has been slightly chipped by a previous tenant, but otherwise is in good condition.
I remove my clothes and step inside the shower, instantly protesting with a small shriek, as the cold water cascades down my body. It's too late to get out now, even if I wanted to. Soon enough the water became warmer, and when my fingers can move again, I scrub the soap over my body, ridding me from the dirt I had been exposed to today.
I envelope myself in the towel, drying myself off before placing on my clothes and walking into the bedroom, as I dash towards the bed, wrapping the blanket around me. The blanket is thin and the night is cold. I wrap another blanket over me in hope that it'll keep me warm tonight.
Getting to sleep at night has gotten increasingly hard, especially now that it's cold. It's getting harder ignoring the fact that my toes would likely fall off if it wasn't for the thin blanket that covers them. I turn my lamp on and sit in an upright position grabbing the book I borrowed from the library.
My hands brush over the cover as I open the book to page 394. My eyes scan the words on the pages. I never seemed to understand something about these books. Something that makes me despise fairytales.
As the shoe fit Cinderella, the frog was turned into a prince, sleeping beauty was awakened by a kiss. Once upon a time they lived happily ever after. Fairytales. The stuff that creates dreams. The problem is fairytales don't come true. It's the other stories. The ones that start on dark and stormy nights and end in the unspeakable.The nightmares that always seem to become reality.
Because fairy tales don't exist. Women can't kiss frogs and turn one into a prince. Men can't slay dragons to save his princess. Nobody will save you besides yourself. Nobody will love you until you love yourself.
A/N Thanks to everyone who liked and followed this fanfic. I appreciate every single one of you, thanks to the person who reviewed as well. This is a FourTris story, but it is a bit of a slowburn. The next update will be in 3 days. Until next time,
-Divergent31